Ecstatic Cocktails
by enomix
Summary: The Battle of Hogwarts is over and the celebration is on! But what will happen in the festivities? A slightly drunk Hermione encounters an old "friend" from school and learns the truth about something she thought she knew... Please R&R! Written for CeliaEquus as her prize for the Marauder's Map Contest 2010.


A oneshot for second place winner of the Marauder's Map Contest 2010, _Celia Equus,_ for her story _Illicit  
_(was previously part of a collection but I have uploaded them individually)

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the magical world, (c)JKR, only the plot is mine

* * *

**Ecstatic Cocktails**

Hermione Jean Granger was drunk. And not just of euphoria, delight and glee, but also of the alcoholic delights that she'd snatched from the trays of bewildered waiters.

She was hungry for excitement. The war was won, all seven souls of Voldemort were dead and she had kissed Ron Weasley. Life could not be better.

The brunette was at the Burrow, under a silver canopy not unlike the tents at Bill and Fleur's wedding. The guests pushed away the nostalgic memory of their deceased friends, of the heroes who had helped them gain their victory; and celebrated There must have been a hundred people laughing, dancing and celebrating the victory in that tent. Everywhere you turned there was an old friend, and there had never been such a gathering before. Browns, Patils, long-lost Weasleys, members of the Order, people from the Ministry, and even a bunch of Fleur's Veela cousins!

"Excellent, innit?" said someone next to her. The girl jumped, but after letting out a few giggles, turned her head to the right to face the speaker. It was Dean Thomas.

"Hello, Dean. Yes, it is jolly marvellous that Voldemort's gone. We can say his name now—there's nothing to be scared of. Voldemort! Voldemort! Voldyyyy!"

Dean looked befuddled at Hermione.

"Are you… okay, Hermione?"

The girl giggled.

"Couldntbebetter," she slurred, and went on singing the chant under her breath. "Voldyyy! Voldyy! Voldyyy's goooone! Eeeevery boooody sing this soooong!"

Dean looked bemused at her departing figure, but stopped thinking about the drunken bookworm when Parvati Patil suddenly hugged him.

"I have to tell you something, Vati," he started. It was time for truth, he had seen people die the day before, and Dean was not prepared to let the same happen to him without having told her.

The girl looked up at him, arms still embracing his back.

"What?"

He hesitated a bit before answering, nervous.

"I… I love you."

Parvati's eyes filled with tears.

"I'm sorry Vati, I didn't mean to say that, we can still just be friends, I'm sorry, just forget it, I'm sorry, I—"

The contact of her lips on his cut him off.

* * *

"Haffusinim, Ginny?"

The redhead looked at Hermione from over her cocktail, confused.

"What?"

"Have—you—seen—him, Ginny?"

She still looked confused. "Who?"

"Your brother Ron, of course! My lovely Ronald Weasley," exclaimed the muggle-born. Ginny looked uncomfortable, and put down her cocktail by the tray of chicken snacks on the buffet table.

"Um, er, no, as a matter of fact, no, I haven't seen him—I, uh, I think he—er—went back to the house. Yes, he went back to the house, he was feeling a bit—um—nauseous."

"Thankvryuch"

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "All right, Hermione, see you later…"

* * *

Hermione swayed back to the house, where there was a faint light coming from one of the windows.

She stumbled her way through the hallway, and noticed –quite baffled– that a thin column of steam was coming from the open kitchen door. The brunette went inside said room and looked puzzlingly around, trying to find the origin of the vapour.

There was a small teapot hissing quietly on the stove. The air smelt of mint, lemon and tea leaves, and soothed down Hermione's head, which was slowly turning sober.

"Uaaaugh," she groaned, clutching her head and coming to her senses. She could hear the sound of her blood pounding through her ears, and instantly felt dizzy, falling into a chair that was conveniently placed behind her.

"What a mess I am."

The Gryffindor looked around, and her gaze fell on a small cupboard with the label _Remedies_ clearly noted in Mrs. Weasley's curly writing.

Hermione forced her body to stand and her legs to direct her to where the cupboard was, and open the door.

She took a small jar of powdered mint and put a few spoonfuls in a cup. Then she took the kettle off the stove and poured the contents into the cup.

"Feeling a bit tipsy, Granger?" came a voice from the door of the kitchen, causing Hermione to almost drop her cup.

A tall, blonde youth with grey eyes and a complacent smirk came inside the room and took a seat by the dining table.

"McLaggen—what are you doing here?" the witch managed to say in surprise.

"What do you think? I've been _invited_. To come celebrate. I must say, you have played a key role in the victory against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"So have Harry and Ron—"

Cormac stopped her with a wave of his hand.

"Please. They never would have been able to defeat evil without your help. Never would have been able to know what spells to use, what potions to make—or how to escape from certain people, for that matter."

Hermione flushed pink, remembering how she had tried to avoid Cormac in the Christmas party at Slughorn's. Something made her think that the wizard was referring to that incident, but she didn't ask.

"You all right?" the oldest one asked, indicating Hermione's teacup.

The girl nodded.

"Yes, just feeling a bit—um, queasy. I think I've had a cocktail too many," she confessed with a faint smile.

McLaggen smirked.

"You're not the only one."

"Would you like a cup too, then?" inquired Hermione, sitting opposite him at the table.

"Oh, I wasn't referring to myself! I happen to have a liver of steel. And sufficient self-discipline to not get too tipsy," he added.

The witch was still curious about who he was referring to… she hadn't seen anyone as bad as she had been, but then how would she have noticed if she was drunk herself? She took a sip of the tea, and felt a wave of warmth gently pass through her body; clearing her mind and making her feel instantly better.

Cormac was still sitting in front of her with his elbows resting on the table. Hermione had to admit that he'd changed in the last year—she'd heard that he'd spent the last year studying wizarding law in Croacia and that he had been offered many posts in the Ministry, all of which he declined, and began a non-profit campaign against the maltreatment of magical creatures.

"So, whom were you referring to?" Hermione finally asked, breaking the silence that had come between them.

The wizard shrugged.

"I don't know, just someone—or rather two people, that I saw rushing past me when I came up to the house."

Hermione's curiosity sparked. "Who where they?"

Cormac hesitated for a moment. "Well, I think one of them was Lavender Brown… she had so much makeup on that it was difficult to identify her face in the moonlight."

"And the other?" asked Hermione.

He didn't meet her eyes.

"I… um… I think it was one of Ron's cousins or something, yes, it was."

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"How would you know if it was Ron's cousin if you haven't even met any of them before? You haven't even had a proper conversation with Ron himself. Who are you trying to protect, McLaggen?"

The wizard shrugged. "I'm not protecting anyone. I think it must've been one of them because he certainly had red hair, and he looked a lot like Ron. Anyhow, we shouldn't talk about them, they're probably snogging in the attic or something."

Hermione stood up.

"I'm not going to sit here having a conversation with you when there's a couple canoodling somewhere in this house! They might even be in me and Ginny's!"

"Give it a rest, Granger. It's a victory party. Let them have _their_ moment of glory. From what I've heard you've already had yours," Cormac remarked, grinning insinuatingly.

The witch blushed beetroot. "Whether or not I have is not in any way your business. I was wrong. You haven't changed one bit. Still the arrogant busybody ass that can't keep his nose out of other peoples affairs! I can't believe I'm here talking to you and hearing your nonsensical replies," she raged, departing from the kitchen and heading up the stairs.

"Granger! GRANGER!" the wizard called, running after her. "Stop! Don't—"

But it was too late.

Hermione had opened the door to the attic and stood before the entrance of the room. Her muscles were paralyzed, here eyes frozen. In front of her, snogging madly on top of the sofa of tattered felt, a platinum blonde Veela cousin and Ron Weasley.

"Granger, I told you not to come up here. They're probably as drunk as you were—"

"RONALD WEASLEY! STOP KISSING THAT HAG THIS INSTANT!"

The witch's best friend looked up from his partner, dazed.

"Hermione—this is not—this is not what it looks like—it wasn't my fault—you know what Veelas are like—she—I didn't—I'll make it up to you—don't—please."

Hermione didn't move, her face expressionless but her eyes irate.

"Don't _dare_ lie to me! I don't want to know _what_ you were doing or _why_ you were doing it, but I'll tell you one thing: _I don't care_."

And with that, she fled down the stairs before the Veela or Ron could react any further.

"You asked for it, Weasley," remarked McLaggen, with a disenchanted look on his face.

* * *

"I can't believe it…" whispered Hermione into the darkness. "Ron… that Veela…"

"Well, he's a jerk, you know."

The witch stared daggers at him through her watery hazel eyes.

"You're just as bad as he is! Who knows what you were doing before joining me in the kitchen; probably the same thing as…Ron. What foolish girl has fallen victim to you this time?"

"Granger, don't flatter me. I've changed since Hogwarts. I work voluntarily to help restore the rights of the supposedly inferior magical beings. To tell you the truth—I got interested in it all because of you."

"What?"

"In my last year I got interested in you, and began to investigate on what you liked and what activities you took part in and all, to be able to casually bump into you in the halls. That's the first time I heard about S.P.E.W."

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"You gave up a job at the ministry because you wanted to work with S.P.E.W?"

"No, not S.P.E.W. specifically, but I realized how right you were in what you said about the elves and goblins and everything. It's foolish to see the hierarchy we have established—there are many wizards who behave worse than the creatures they so blindly despise.

"Take Weasley. Any house elf knows more about loyalty than he does—"

Cormac broke off, aware of the witch starting to cry next to him.

Her sobs joined the crickets' tune as tears started to flow down her cheek.

"Um, that probably wasn't the best thing to say…" he murmured, almost to himself sitting down beside her on the steps in the Weasley back garden.

"Er… there, there."

"It's just so unfair," Hermione cried, "I've always thought that eventually he'd love me…" She broke down to tears again.

"Calm down, it's going to be all right," comforted the wizard, trying to give her a helping smile and wiping a few of the tears off her cheeks.

"I-I'm sorry to break down like this," she apologized between sniffs, embarrassed. "It's just I can't b-bear it anymore."

Cormac put a comforting arm around her, pulling her into a tight hug. Hermione felt very strange. Here was the boy who she'd fled away from last year, desperate to avoid his arrogant character. Here was the boy who she hadn't been able to put up with just five minutes ago. Here was the boy who was the only person soothing up for her now. Why? Why was he bothering to comfort a girl who was nothing to him? What part of his conceited self had stepped down so quickly to reveal a friendly and altruistic personality?

The wizard felt equally bemused. He had no idea why on earth he was hugging a girl who had used him to annoy her best friend. Hugging a girl who had avoided him and thought him to be—with every reason— the most self-satisfied and haughty being to have ever walked this earth. Hugging girl who had just gotten her heart broken for the umpteenth time.

Cormac pulled away, aware of the oddity of it all, and looked away embarrassed, at anything besides the witch's face. He looked up at the stars, bright in the sky; the darkness past the neatly trimmed hedges; the moon that rested so peacefully in the wide sable yonder, eternal, everlasting. And finally at the heart-broken girl sitting beside him.

To his surprise, her eyes were gazing at his countenance, and instantly found themselves locked with his as he turned his head towards her. Hermione blushed, looking away.

"I should be getting back," he started, getting up. "They're probably waiting for me…"

The witch echoed his actions and stood up, following him into the garden.

"I'll come with you," she stated, grabbing hold of his hand as Cormac started to walk towards the lights of the canopies.

Hermione felt an electric wave go flow her arm as their fingertips touched. It was enough to send a chill down her spine. Cormac turned around, and found himself staring yet again into her bewitching orbs.

"Thank you for making me feel better," she smiled.

"He doesn't deserve you," was the oldest one's answer. And a feeling of coldness was left when Cormac let go of her hand, and began to walk on towards the canopies.

"Cormac!" Hermione called, running after him. The wizard turned to face her.

"Yes?" he whispered faintly.

"I was wrong about you."

And she stood on her toes and kissed his cheek under the star-lit sky.


End file.
